


she keeps me warm

by pr1nc3ssp34ch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anti Peter Hale, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Feelings, Fluff, Scar Kissing, Scars, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr1nc3ssp34ch/pseuds/pr1nc3ssp34ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love them because they're a part of you," Allison says, quietly, muffled against her skin, "And I love you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	she keeps me warm

**Author's Note:**

> So I tagged on a Lydia post and then my friend and I got to talking and long story short, this is for [Taylor](http://the-candy-van.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Warnings: I have added a scar to Lydia's body from Peter's claws. I have also added in a history in which Allison and Lydia teamed up to kill Peter, because none of the others would take action on that front. I don't go into a lot of detail, but it could be considered glorifying murder? Neither of them are sorry, and despite the fact that Lydia got hurt, it's a good memory for them. It's a memory of Lydia freeing herself from the chains that bound her and Peter together, of her taking control of her life, and it wasn't long after that for Allison and Lydia to go from friends to lovers.

Allison loves to kiss Lydia's neck.

 

She does it all the time. When they're studying sprawled out across the bed and Allison gets bored, she  _knows_ Lydia's memorized the material twice already, sliding up behind Lydia on the bed and brushing back her hair to press soft kisses to the side of her neck. When they're baking, because Lydia stays out of the kitchen for actual meals, and Lydia turns only to have Allison backing her against the island, tangling their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her mouth before kissing down her neck to her shoulder, lingering a moment on the column of her throat and pressing a red stain, whether it's lipstick or a bruise that fades to purple. Especially when they're in bed - Allison will dig her teeth in, right on the vein with clever fingers taking her apart all at once. 

 

Lydia has always thought it was some werewolf thing carried over. Like, dating a few guys who were neck obsessed has caused Allison to pick up on it. It's fine, she doesn't mind. She has to buy concealer twice as often, but sometimes she leaves them, those little bruises that remind people she belongs to someone, and someone else to her. 

 

What she likes best about belonging to Allison is that she's never asked Lydia to say she's hers - but she says it, anyway, because she wants to. She loves Allison, and she loves the choice she made to be with her.

 

But she can't always turn off her mind, not even when they're in bed with the lights turned off and Allison wraps an arm around her waist, kissing up from her shoulder to her neck, reverant, as usual. It makes her breath catch, sometimes, how she's always told everyone she should be  _worshipped,_ but she's never felt that way before this. She hums, tilting her neck to feel Allison press her smile into her skin.

 

"Why do you love my neck?" she asks. It's a question that's been on her mind occasionally for months, but now, when the moonlight is the only thing to aid her sight in their room and she's in that perfect place between awake and asleep, it manages to slip from her lips like nothing. "Is it a weird leftover from your werewolf boyfriends?" She can feel Allison sitting up slightly, propping herself up on an elbow, and Lydia turns so she's on her back, eyes fluttering open expectantly.

 

Allison's long, calloused fingers trail down her neck, starting from her chin and stopping near the spot wher her neck turns to her torso. "It's still there, you know," she murmurs, tracing a line around her neck, and Lydia shudders, a slight frown gracing her lips. She knows what Allison is talking about. "I know," she says, harsh but not quite biting in her sleep-hazed state, "They said it wouldn't scar. But I still see it."

 

"I kiss you there," she admits, "Because it's a reminder. That you survived. That you're alive." 

 

Lydia scoffs, rolling her eyes up to meet Allison's. "It's ugly. They're ugly. Do you know how often I've wanted to break out a bikini only to remember that thing on my side?"

 

"At least we killed him," Allison whispers with a smirk, leaning in to kiss her. Lydia kisses back only a little bit reluctantly.

 

When Allison swings a leg over her hips, Lydia rolls her eyes again, but her hands slide up to her hips. "What are you doing?"

 

Allison sighs. "I'm appreciating. Shh, don't ruin it."

 

Of course, Lydia doesn't do listening well. She can't really handle it for too long, unless she's in the  _mood,_ and then she can handle it  _all._ "Appreciating what?"

 

"You," Allison hums, and then they're kissing again, and while Lydia is all for trying to figure out what the hell is going on (Allison is constantly appreciating her, but she doesn't have to do it at midnight when Lydia has a class at 9), she doesn't particularly mind this series of events. One hand slides from her hip to her stomach, travelling up over her chest and into her hair. She sort of loves the weight of Allison sprawled across her, capturing her bottom lip between her straight, white teeth and tugging as she pulls away to go to her favorite place - Lydia's neck.

 

"See, this is where someone tried to kill you," she breathes, and Lydia can feel the goosebumps racing across her skin. Allison kisses a line across her neck, and she knows that her lips are following the path of that tiny scar that only the two of them bother to notice. "This is where you show me you survived."

 

One hand slips under Lydia's body, who arches, obliging and indulgent now, to undo her bra before sliding it off her shoulders and kissing across her collarbone as she does. When she's done with that she pauses, oh so polite, to slip her mouth around Lydia's nipple, brushing her fingers across the other and working her up, until her face and neck are red with heat and she's squirming, just a little, almost against her will. "Get on with it," she growls, and it's the growl of a kitten, a little thing, but Allison laughs and does as she's told, which is good. Lydia has a quiz tomorrow in that class - there's no way she's sleeping late. 

 

"I love these," she murmurs, kissing the jagged edges of the claw marks that tear through the bottom of Lydia's chest and across her torso, "Because they remind me of that night. You've never looked so  _satisfied._ " 

 

Lydia laughs, low in her throat, sounding almost as wild as she felt that night. "We'd been working so hard. And you - I thought you weren't going to give it to me."

 

"The final blow?" Allison sighs. "You wouldn't have these if I didn't."

 

Lydia bites her lip. "Alright, maybe I like those, then. But just them."

 

Allison kisses each one in turn, and it's a tease, because it's Allison's mouth on her, but it isn't where Lydia  _wants,_ damn it, she can see the clock, it's 12:45. She moans, quietly, knowing Allison likes to hear her. "C'mon, some of us have to wake up in the morning."

 

There's a hum, and Lydia knows she wants to say 'bossy' but wont, because when dealing with Lydia the bossy is  _usually_ a given. Instead, she moves, sliding down further until she's parting Lydia's thighs to fit her body in between, sliding her hands up her body until they get to her waist. She leans to the left, pressing kisses to Lydia's biggest, 'ugliest' scar - the one where Peter bit her. It's more jagged than the claws, both white and pink in equal measure, raised above the rest of her skin. His teeth marks are still visible in her - the thought of it makes Lydia shudder, but Allison is kissing her fear away one soft sound at a time.

 

"I might love and hate these most of all," she says quietly. "I hate them because of how they make you feel, how they made you feel - how we all treated you after." She presses kisses to her skin again, apologetic ones this time, and Lydia runs soft fingers through her hair. "But I love them more, because they led you to the discoveries about what you are, and what you could do. They were the catalyst for what makes you feel powerful." Lydia knows what she means. Allison puts a lot of stock in feeling powerful, and Lydia tends to agree - the way she feels, knowing she could bring someone back to life if she wanted, if she tried really hard. It's a terrifying kind of power, but good, too. 

 

Allison spends more time here than she does on either of the others, but Lydia allows it - this she can understand. Every press of Allison's lips, every nuzzle of her nose feels like she's erasing the feeling of Peter's jaws clamping down on her side. Replacing it with something good - something better, something extraordinary. Lydia feels bathed in light, like it's rising up inside her and she doesn't know what to do, it's everywhere.

 

When Allison's hands travel up her thigh and dip between, thumbing over the silk of her underwear, Lydia gasps. She's  _wet,_ really - she didn't even know she was turned on, but she is, and now she can't understand how she didn't know because everything feels  _fantastic._ "Oh," she says, like it's a fact, and Allison grins against her skin, sliding down the bed enough to mouth at her hips, sloppy and wet, now. So different from her kisses a moment ago, but that's hotter, too, because it means Allison is getting impatient, can't wait.

 

She wants her to come back up and kiss her, and maybe Lydia says that out loud because Allison shakes her head, all long dark hair and a clever tongue, and Lydia arches her hips, as if to say,  _if you aren't going to kiss me, do something._

 

Allison complies.

 

Hooking her fingers under the thin lace of Lydia's panties, she drags them down, slowly, drawing out the sensitivity by letting the fabric trail across her inner thighs before leaving them hooked around Lydia's ankle. She hates searching for them later, and it makes something in her heart clench - they know each other's habits perfectly. They've done this over and over, but somehow it never gets any more comprehensible. Every time it's like the earth is shattering just below them, and Lydia can't bear to stop. Will never be able to.

 

She sighs at the feeling of Allison kissing her thighs. She starts almost at the knee, pressing lingering open-mouthed kisses in a trail up to her center, where she's wet and ready,  _so_ ready, she's been ready for at least a half an hour.

 

Allison's touch feels like a shock, after so long of having nothing there, not even a tease, and Lydia jolts, hips jumping and a leg kicking out. Allison laughs with her mouth pressed up against her clit, and Lydia hasn't felt this turned on in a while. She makes a sound, can't put a name to it but it makes Allison circle fast around her clit with her tongue, once, and she squirms, asking for more with the movement of her hips. Allison doesn't speed up again, but she does slide a hand up the bed and brush her fingers over Lydia's entrance, getting the tips of her fingers sticky with her.

 

"You fucker," Lydia breathes, just for the sensation of Allison laughing around her again while she sinks that first finger in, curling deliciously inside of her. Lydia's chest is heaving, breathing heavy, and that light from earlier feels like it's growing, seeping into her bones and flowing everywhere, loose and free and moving with the sensations Allison is giving her. Her tongue swirls slow but there's pressure, there and it's just enough that if Lydia rolls her hips into it she feels like a soda can, and Allison is shaking and shaking and shaking her. The fizzing bubbles start in her toes and move upward, sinking into the bottom of her stomach and between her thighs until she's tingling all over. 

 

Lydia's been making soft noises for a while now, and she doesn't remember when they started, only that they're getting louder, and she gasps when Allison slips a second finger in without warning. She fucks into her with a rhythm, timing the curl of her fingers easily to the swirls of her tongue, which are picking up speed. She thinks she can feel Allison's other hand slip down her own body to touch herself, but she's distracted and if she thinks about Allison getting off on this, she's going to come - she'd rather enjoy the build, since she's being forced to have it.

 

"Oh, oh, oh," she whimpers, fingers curling into the sheets, and Allison moans, the sound going straight through her from the clit upwards. Lydia is going to - come, definitely, and the fact that Allison moaned instead of laughing means she's close too, oh,  _oh._ One hand slips from where it's tangled in the sheets to curl into Allison's hair, tugging slightly, and she moans again, curling her fingers with it and Lydia is coming, shaking apart in her hands and beneath her mouth and Allison coaxes her through it, past the crest and almost to the point of one rolling into another before she breaks away, resting her head against Lydia's inner thigh. She breathes in, and out, and in again, and Lydia pets her hair because she's earned it.

 

"I love them because they're a part of you," Allison says, quietly, muffled against her skin, "And I love you."

 

"I love you too," she says, once it wont come out breathless anymore. It's a fact, everyone knows it, but Allison's spent all this time making her feel loved and Lydia didn't even get to make her come. Well, not actively, anyway. 

 

Allison slides up her body and uses her secret weakness against her: "I know."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hint: the secret weakness is Star Wars. No one can escape a little bit of nerdy, especially not you, Lydia.
> 
> You may or may not find me on Tumblr [here](http://knightmccall.tumblr.com).


End file.
